Some day, girl, I don’t know when
To quote Public Enemy's Chuck D, "My wanderin' got my ass wonderin' where Christ is in all of this crisis." The eschaton, it seems, has been delayed.
Let it rain
It may take a minute, or an hour, or a lifetime to fully wrap your head around something so unimaginable. It may take a minute to stop looking for the life in a tomb.
Nothing we can say can change anything now
Satan has done all he can. The whole thing is played out. There's a darkness in the house that's got the best of us, and there's a darkness in this world that's got us too.
The dogs on Main Street howl
There is a promise inherent in the way we talk about God which gives meaning to our lives. The promise is that we are going somewhere, and all of this is going somewhere.
From the churches to the jails, tonight all is silence in the world
God, if this is not going to work, let's try something else.
It’s cloudy out in Pittsburgh
Who then, if they have it within their power to protect a space in which joy is shared, would willingly crack the crystal dome over the joyous before circumstances lift it of their own accord?
Some silicone sister with her manager’s mister told me I got what it takes
You can almost picture two A&R men of Mediterranean descent walking up to Danny Federici and saying "We want to meet Bruce."
Nothing feels better than blood on blood
Remember, Jesus is non-violent. A bruised reed he will not break, and Judas is a bruised reed if there ever was one.
Bring on your wrecking ball
Jesus sees it coming. He is the venerated edifice and the wrecking ball has reached the apex of its backswing.
A Dural Matter
A poem for Wednesday in the Fifth Week of Lent
Impact
The first quarter of the eyeroll might be devoted to the idea that numbers — number of people attending a service, number of people viewing a service online, number of people participating in mission work, number of people being served by mission work — that …
Binding the straw man
When asked why he would not pick up his pen, Thomas reputedly replied, "All that I have written seems like straw to me." He died six months later. His magnum opus remains unfinished.